


Ties That Bind

by dreamingofsiha



Series: Burning Hearts [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofsiha/pseuds/dreamingofsiha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aren't you a man of god?” the ghoul asks; playfully, no malice in his voice despite the fact that Joshua is two hundred percent sure that the ghoul didn't miss the fact that he had indeed spent at least twenty seconds staring at his half naked companion.</p><p>“That's correct. Why do you ask?” Joshua questions, even though he already knows the answer. The ghoul grins wider; his chapped lips not entirely dissimilar to the ones he hides away underneath his bandages. </p><p>“Because you look at her like a sinner waiting for an excuse," Raul drawls slowly. Joshua stares at him for a few seconds, before hurrying back into the safety of the cave. </p><p>He'd always been a sinner, but the will to sin had been dormant inside him for a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties That Bind

He doesn't look up until she greets him from in front of his table. He knew she was coming; all the Dead Horses could talk about was the outsider in the valley with the injured man that refused medical treatment and apparently needed to be bandaged up.

There's a moment of hesitation, and Joshua knows it's because she's looking at his bandages. The outsiders _always_ look at his bandages.

“Joshua? Joshua Graham?” she says; loud, even louder when it immediately echoes throughout the cave, but somehow still gentle. He slowly looks up from A Light Shining In Darkness. He keeps his eyes carefully neutral; they are the windows to the soul, and he doesn't need to put it on show for her. She's holding her hand out for him to shake, but she pulls it back slightly as her brow crinkles. He knows what she's thinking, so he clasps his hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. She gives him a small smile and nods when they drop their hands away from each other.

She tilts her head towards her right shoulder, and he follows the invisible line that her gesture makes.

“This is Raul.” The ghoul gives him a half smile and a nod from where he is standing off to her right a couple of metres behind her. She waves her hand out to the side, then motions for the ghoul to move forward. He does so, and stops beside her, folding his arms across his chest and keeping his eyes locked to the bandaged man's. Joshua hasn't seen a ghoul for a very long time, and he tries not to stare the way that the Courier had briefly stared at him.

“How's it going.” Raul states. It's a greeting, not a question. He gives a slight nod in return.

“We should have given you a better welcome on your first visit to Zion, but from what I hear, the White Legs beat us to it. White Legs seem to be the only visitors we have these days, and I wouldn't have expected anyone from the Mojave to come looking for us.” Joshua speaks only half honestly; the Courier has made quite a name for herself in the wasteland; enough of a name for tales of her exploits to reach his radio. He's also heard the rumour that she was the Lone Wanderer, but that's never been confirmed. He ignores his curiosity to ask. The outsider's life isn't any of his business. She'd probably be gone later in the day, or tomorrow morning at the latest.

She maintains perfect eye contact with him as he speaks. The ghoul glances around curiously. His hairless brows raise as a topless Dead Horse tribeswoman wanders past to rummage through a crate of clean blankets.

“And you're a courier, no less. Not the one I was expecting, but I suppose he wouldn't have come with a caravan. I don't know if you were close to the other members of your group, but you have my sympathy. I pray for the safety of all good people who come to Zion, even Gentiles, but we can't expect God to do all of the work.” A flash of distaste across her features before her expression returns to it's default neutral state. Joshua concludes from this that she is not a woman of faith.

“Thank you for your sympathy. I came here with the Happy Trails Caravan Company to make contact with the New Canaanites.”

They speak for almost half an hour; she keeps asking questions, and he keeps answering them. Her face twitches minutely every time he mentions the Lord. When her curiosity seems to be sated, she nudges the back of her palm against the ghoul's forearm. Joshua is surprised to see a human touch a ghoul; most recoil at the mere mention of ghouls, civilised or not.

“Let's go get Follows Chalk and head out. Thank you for speaking with us.” She awkwardly dips her head forward. The ghoul raises a hairless brow again at her half bow.

“God be with you,” Joshua says. He watches the odd companions leave; Raul points to a bundle of cave fungus and says something. She laughs. The sound echoes in his bandaged ears long after she is gone.

\----------

Two days pass before he sees her again. He rounds the corner of the canyon to see a large gathering, hooting and hollering at something he can't see. He gets closer, and a few of the Dead Horses move to let him make his way to the front. When he gets there, he's standing shoulder to shoulder with the ghoul, who grins at him before looking back to the sight before them.

The Courier is wrestling with a male Dead Horse, as a female tribeswoman with a tomahawk circles them. The Courier is wearing only underwear and a thin white tank top, and her long ash blonde hair is tangled in messy waves around her face. She grins as she rolls on top of the tribesman and gains the upper hand. The tribesman slides his hands up her thighs; a detour that is both necessary and unnecessary on his way to grip her hips to throw her off of him.

“Is this any way to treat our guests?” Joshua says calmly, but the crowd immediately falls silent as if he had shouted. The male tribesman pushes the Courier off him unceremoniously, and she yelps as she falls onto her back against the sand with a thud.

“Joshua!” The man (Thunder Chaser, if he remembers correctly) shouts in surprise. The Courier quickly rises to her feet, holding her sandy palms up.

“No harm done, Mister Graham, just a bit of sparring,” she says with a reassuring smile. There are the beginnings of bruises along her upper arms and her left cheek. Joshua glances to Thunder Chaser, who is already sporting a black eye and split lip. Joshua's prolonged silence gives the crowd time to disperse; all of them fleeing. Seeing them so quick to leave sends a sharp pain through his chest; although tribal, the Dead Horses aren't stupid, and he has no doubt that they know of his past actions and past reputation. Not that he'd ever actually need to revert back to the old Joshua Graham; the tribals were peaceful and infighting and crime amongst them was virtually non existant. He'd always found it strange that the rest of civilisation called them tribes, when they were the ones acting like devolved humans in the wastes of the cities that once were.

“Talk to you later, ok?” The Courier gives Thunder Chaser a light slap on his shoulder, and he too hastily leaves.

“I'm very sorry if I've partaken in any defiling of the culture here,” she says eventually.

“Not at all. I just do not want outsiders to leave with more injuries than they came in with,” Joshua says. The ghoul beside him snorts. The Courier frowns at him.

“Ain't no worry about that, amigo. Boss can handle herself,” the ghoul rasps beside him.

“Well then, do not let me intrude. The tribe informs me that they enjoy your company. It is good to see an outsider who respects and partakes in the culture here,” Joshua admits. To say that the tribe had been enjoying her company was an understatement; he'd practically listened to at least eight declarations of admiration for her over the past two days, and indirectly overheard at least four more.

Her responding grin stirs something inside of him that he's not entirely comfortable with.

\----------

He's halfway to the Sorrows' Camp at Daniel's request the next day when he hears someone running in the water behind him. He turns to see the Courier rushing towards him.

“Hoi!” She says cheerily. Her tanned face is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and the tribal shirt she is wearing shows off her toned abdominal muscles. The bruises from yesterday have darkened.

“Hello, Courier. Do you need something?” He asks. She looks affronted by his question.

“No, I don't need anything. I just wanted to... uh, say hello,” she says. Joshua frowns as he struggles to remember the last time anyone spoke to him just to say hello, and not because they need something. He's unsure of how to respond.

“I see,” he says. His frown deepens when her hopeful expression fades to one of embarrassment.

“So, uh, hello! I guess I'll see you later,” she stammers as she turns and quickly makes her way back to wherever it was she came from.

His cheeks burn hotter than usual, and later, he has to ask Daniel to repeat himself numerous times.

\----------

When he sees her later that day, he wishes he hadn't. She's laying on the sand near the water outside Angel Cave between two other female tribals; and she's following their example by sunbathing topless. They are happily chatting, and from what he can tell, the tribals are teaching her more words. He can hear by her terrible pronunciation just how well she is not doing. His eyes focus on her torso; tanned and scars visible even from at least thirty metres away; jagged and zig zagging across the taut ridges of her stomach and her defined collarbones. His eyes fall upon her breasts; small, yet firm and perfectly rounded. Her nipples are a deep pink against her caramel skin.

He quickly averts his gaze to the entrance of the cave to see the ghoul leaning against the rocks; his arms folded across his chest and a park ranger hat obscuring most of his face. It doesn't obscure his toothy grin, however.

“Aren't you a man of god?” The ghoul asks; playfully, no malice in his voice despite the fact that Joshua is two hundred percent sure that the ghoul didn't miss the fact that he had indeed spent at least twenty seconds staring at his half naked companion.

“That's correct. Why do you ask?” Joshua questions, even though he already knows the answer. The ghoul grins wider; his chapped lips not entirely dissimilar to the ones he hides away underneath his bandages.

“Because you look at her like a sinner waiting for an excuse,” Raul drawls slowly. Joshua stares at him for a few seconds, before hurrying back into the safety of the cave.

He'd always been a sinner, but the will to sin had been dormant inside him for a _very_ long time.

\----------

It's almost midnight when she wanders into Angel Cave. He doesn't hear her until she's in front of his desk; she's ditched her usual clunky combat boots for bare feet, and isn't carrying that clunky backpack with her.

“Joshua?” She says quietly, but he is still startled by the sudden noise.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Ah, _fu_ -iddlesticks I didn't mean to swear either,” the Courier says as she dramatically slaps a palm over her mouth. Joshua chuckles, which is something that feels so new despite doing it so many times before that for a moment he thinks that White Bird may have slipped something extra into his herbal tea that evening.

“Would you like to sit?” Joshua offers, waving his hand towards a chair beside him - left there earlier by Waking Cloud who had given him a glowing report on the Courier's presence in the valley.

“Yes, thank you," she accepts, and saunters oddly up to the chair. He frowns.

“Have you been injured?” Joshua asks. The Courier sighs and carefully sits on her designated chair.

“No. Well, kind of,” she says with a wince as she fully relaxes into the chair. He gives her a questioning look.

“Thought it would be fun to get my first tattoo,” she grins. He puts down the .45 he'd been fiddling with and twists in his seat to face her.

“A... tattoo?” He repeats dumbly. She nods.

“Yep. A tattoo," she says proudly, even as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. His eyes widen in horror.

“No! No, it's not on my _as_ -backside. It curves around my thigh. Triangles, like Follows Chalk has.”

“I... see,” he says, trying not to let the mental image of a tattoo snaking around the dark flesh of her naked thigh materialise any more than it already has. It was _already_ too much. She gives him a slight smile as she sighs and leans back in the chair.

“Did you... did you have any tattoos? Before...?” she asks as she gestures to his bandages. The boldness of her question stuns him; most people do not ask about his condition out of fear of causing offence. The way she asks it, though, all sweet and gentle and caring makes the words tumble out of his mouth easily.

“No. Truthfully, I never considered them.” She studies him as he speaks; her steel blue eyes never leaving his own.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks quietly. She waits patiently for an answer.

“Yes. I doubt it will ever stop. If I had sought proper medical attention at the time...” he trails off, cutting the line of thought immediately. He doesn't have time for regrets. Regrets don't fix things, and it certainly wasn't going to heal him.

“I know someone who could help. She treated one of my friends when she was... when she was burnt.” Her eyes go distant for a moment, before she's fully back in the room with him.

“It's a lotion that helps the skin become stronger and eventually builds an extra layer over your own. You might even be able to take your bandages off, sometimes. Cass doesn't even need bandages on her leg, now,” she says, smiling at the thought of her friend's recovery.

Joshua deliberates in silence. He'd let White Bird test a lotion that he had made on his forearm. It had itched and stung so badly that he'd resolved to never let anyone put anything on his skin again. However, the fact that her friend's treatment had been successful, he'd be stupid not to try, right? A part of him felt nervous at the thought of being without his bandages; they'd been wrapped around him for so long that they felt like an extension of himself. Still, he couldn't let that deter him. He hadn't allowed himself to think about the life he could have had if he wasn't wrapped up like an old Egyptian mummy; he'd never ever have enough caps to even begin looking for someone to help him, but now that it was an option?

“I'd... I'd appreciate that,” he says, and she smiles so wide that thinking about himself doing the same makes his cheeks hurt.

“I'll look into it when I get back,” The Courier says as she runs a hand through her hair. He spots a jagged scar that starts at her hairline and runs towards the back of her skull.

“And what of your scars? I hear that you came back from two bullets,” he asks, because he's feeling bold. She raises a brow, and he can feel his neck flushing. Of course. There's no way for him to know that, as far as she sees.

“They talk about it on the radio often. I listen for any important news,” he adds.

“I don't think that little old me getting shot in the head is important news,” she says as she folds her arms across her chest.

“Perhaps not, but surviving it is. The Lord truly had mercy on you that day,” he says; half because he believes it and half because he wants to see her squirm. This time, she doesn't.

“Well, he's got a pretty sick idea about how second chances should be handled," she says as she shifts in her seat again. Her face crinkles up as she drags her nails up her left thigh over her jeans.

“Jesus, it's so fucking _itchy_ ,” she groans as she continues to scratch. Her eyes widen when she realises the profanity she has just spouted.

“I am so sorry!” she apologises, and Joshua raises a hand to stop her.

“No need to apologise. They are only words to some, after all.” She still looks very apologetic, and he realises she can't see the small smile he is giving her.

“I've got something that may help. Give me a moment.” He rises from his chair and moves to the back of the cave, rummaging through three medical kits before he finds the bottle of oil that White Bird made to stop the itching after the lotion had failed. At least _that_ had worked.

“Here. Gently apply this. It will soothe the itch,” Joshua says as he offers her the bottle. She takes it and inspects it in front of her face.

“You don't need this?” she asks; her eye contorting to an odd shape and size as she glances at him through the half empty bottle.

“No. Please, take it,” he says as he returns to his seat.

“Thank you.” She scratches at her thigh again as her face twists into a grimace.

“Do you mind... do you mind if I put some on now? It's really... _really_ itchy,” she says breathlessly.

“Of course. Go ahead, Courier,” Joshua allows. He turns back to his guns to give her some privacy.

“Jane,” she says.

“Pardon?”

“My name is Jane,” she says. He hears her remove her jeans, and he's thankful that she can't see his flushed skin when she moans in relief. Her belt buckle clangs against the table leg on it's way down.

“Jane, then," he says before setting to work on dismantling the gun in front of him, even though he'd only just put it back together before she walked in. He can see her in his peripheral vision; her naked flesh glowing warm in the light of the flames. He can feel himself hardening. He drops his gun; fumbles with it mid air and just barely manages to steady his hands before it slides off of the table.

He's never, ever had a sexual thought about any of the tribal woman. He can look upon their nudity with genuine indifference. Why now? Why _her?_

She moans again, and his head is pounding. He feels hot; too hot, so he reaches for his glass of water and downs almost all of it in one gulp.

“Oh, it's working already.” Her breathy sigh does nothing to lull the flames of desire that are sending hot licks of lust throughout his body. He hardly knows anything about her; why is her presence having this effect on him?

“You can look, if you want,” Jane whispers, and Joshua's entire body goes still. There are a tense few seconds before she speaks again.

“Have I... overstepped a line? Would you like me to leave?” she asks. He shakes his head quickly to both questions. Almost too quickly. He'd been with plenty of women before he was burned, regardless of his faith. He doesn't know how the hell he'd actually do anything with her, but the attention is too good to refuse, even if it _is_ a horrible tease.

He hears her rise from her chair, then scraping against the rocky dirt as she pushes the chair back. She carefully clears a spot on the side of his desk, and sits on it. Her thigh brushes against his forearm, and the contact makes him dizzy even through the thickly wound bandages. Her fingertips trace the length of his forearm; her rough, calloused palms occasionally catching against the bandage.

Slowly, he looks up and to his left. Six black triangles across, and six down almost cover the expanse of her petite thighs. The skin is raised and red around the black ink, even as the lotion covers most of it. He looks up to her eyes, and she's watching him with a half lidded expression. He swallows hard, then lets his gaze wander back down her body. The atmosphere between them feels electric, and he's even harder inside his pants now. The sensitive skin strains painfully against his underwear, but he pays it no mind. He can't deny that as much as it hurts, it feels _good_ too.

She lets out a huff of air that sounds halfway between a moan and a chuckle as she holds the bottle of oil over her thigh and tilts it to pour some onto her skin. Joshua reaches up; stilling her hand and the bottle.

“May I?” he asks. She nods and lets him take the bottle from her. She slides her palms behind her backside as she leans back to watch. He places the bottle on the table, then reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulls out a pair of sterilised plastic gloves from the medkit there and slides them over his hands, then looks back up at the Courier (he doesn't want to say her name; the title of the Courier makes her sound as important as she is), who looks down at him with a brow furrowed in confusion.

“My bandages are dirty from the guns. I don't want to cause an infection,” he exlains quietly, and she nods as she watches him pick up the bottle of lotion and tip a generous portion of the oil into his gloved palm. Gently, so _gently_ , he smooths the oil over her inflamed skin. She lets out a hiss when the oil first makes contact with her skin, but he can tell from the way she bucks her hips towards him slightly that he's not hurting her at _all_.

“How does that feel?” he murmurs as his fingers stroke the side of her thigh. There are no tattoos there, but it doesn't matter. He wishes he could feel her skin against his.

“Great,” she replies; the word slipping off her tongue so smoothly that he wonders how she would sound reading scripture. He doesn't want to convert her; no, he knows that not everyone wants to have religion in their life, but thinking about her reading it to him in that breathy tone still excites him.

Joshua lets his fingers trail up to the waistband of her underwear, and she spreads her thighs slightly. The scent of her sweet arousal immediately hits him; bandages or no, and he inhales deeply when he sees the dark patch on the grey marle material. His fingers still at her waist, and he looks up at her.

“I can't... we can't...” he tries, and suddenly he feels like The Wasteland's Biggest Fool. She smiles down at him and lifts a hand to softly cup his bandaged cheek. Even that small amount of pressure against his bandages was maddening, and he knew that he was fully hard now. She opens her mouth to speak, just as a familiar voice calls from the entrance of the cave.

“Jane? Jane? Boss? You in here?” the ghoul calls. The Courier is off the table and redressed in her pants in under five seconds. She's back in her chair, draped over it with a nonchalant expression by the time the ghoul rounds the corner.

“What's up?” she says, in a tone that Joshua thinks is remarkably steady for a woman with soaked underwear and flushed cheeks. The ghoul looks between Joshua and his boss - his hairless brows lowering as he realises he's walked in on something, despite the Courier's excellent acting.

“Waking Cloud's been bothering me about your whereabouts. She wants to see the tattoo. Told her I'd come find you just so she stopped bugging me,” Raul says in a irritated tone. The ghoul's clothes look mussed and crinkled, like he's just rolled out of his bedroll.

“I'll be right out. Can you give me a minute? I'm just discussing-” Raul raises his hand to interrupt.

“You do what you gotta do, boss. I'll be outside.” The ghoul gives her a wink before retreating. They sit in silence long after his footsteps cease to make any noise.

Eventually, the Courier leans forward and places a soft kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and her lips linger near his ear for a few teasing seconds before she pulls away and stands up.

“What for?” he asks. He hadn't actually done anything to her, as much as he had wanted to. All he receives as an answer is a smile over her shoulder as she leaves. He sits perfectly still until his erection subsides, and breathes a sigh of relief when his pants don't feel heinously tight any more. He tears off his gloves, and throws them against the cave wall opposite his desk, then puts his head in his hands.

The Courier might not have been the _right_ courier, but she'd definitely brought him more than he bargained for.


End file.
